


In a Year, in a Season, in a Moment.

by BardsBeBardin924



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Blood, Gen, Poetry, brief mentions of death, hints of arwen and merthur if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsBeBardin924/pseuds/BardsBeBardin924
Summary: A short series of short poems. Four characters, four seasons. Explorations of love and pain. Just the human things.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Merlin Bingo





	In a Year, in a Season, in a Moment.

Autumn

And here He is, once again,

Death arrives.

We should’ve known better,

You and Me,

Than to think we could outrun Him once and for all.

Is it so wrong to hope the story will be different this time?

To hope that the sunshine stays,

Burning brighter and brighter,

The warmth kissing our skin to blisters and blush and bliss.

And yet,

Here He is.

Death.

He ensnares us,

Once and for all.

We should’ve known there was no escape,

You and Me.

Perhaps it is better this way.

This way, perhaps, I will have You forever,

In the loam of the earth,

In the fungus climbing the trees,

In the crimson and auburn leaves,

Falling.

He’s extending out his hand,

And the grip of Death is far more gentle than I deserve.

I look to You, just once more,

And there is fire in your eyes,

And I ignite in the flame,

And it is the last spark of day I see,

Until the night rushes in –

Winter

How brittle you are.

A change in the wind shatters you,

Scatters you across this barren wasteland

Of your own creation.

You see it.

You revel in it.

Your touch, your breath, leaving graves in your wake.

Oh, how striking you are.

Your artistry clear.

Your vision one of envy.

There can be no path so sharp as yours. 

The bitter landscape is your canvas,

The blood you shed your paint.

You carve bodies into the frozen earth,

And at the end,

You smile.

This is your design.

Spring

I never knew quite what it was to love.

I thought it no more than a word to sing.

But then, you shone, like sunlight up above,

And I can’t help but bloom, like mums in spring.

Shall I compare you to the endless sky?

Perhaps, should that not please, a warming fleece?

Oh, Love, I hope I wonder all my days just why,

Or how, or when, this love will bring me peace.

For it is you. It’s always you, Heart.

Comfort of fleece, expansive sky of blue.

‘Till death, and death beyond, we never part,

When all that’s left is love, and love remains true.

So, ‘till we meet again, dear one, stand bold.

Your land, your love, stands firm, glittering gold.

Summer

The Dance of the Sun and Moon

Once upon a time,

Or perhaps,

Today upon this afternoon,

Or maybe,

One coming day upon a dawning,

The Sun and Moon meet.

It is always the same story.

The Sun gleams on the Earth,

Baking its soil with light,

Feeding its life with radiance.

Then, as the Sun goes home from a hard day’s work,

The Moon peeks up.

It’s no more than a tentative glance,

At first.

No more than a small glimpse of a crescent smile.

The Sun catches the luminous look,

But disappears,

Bashful,

Beyond the horizon.

With each pass of the Sun through the sky,

They linger, just a bit longer,

Hoping to stretch the moment with the Moon’s beauty,

To share the expanse of sky.

With each rise of the Moon above,

They grow just a bit bolder, just a bit faster.

The lunar smile grows wider and wider,

Brilliant white,

Catching the Sun’s resplendent shine on their face.

It is a beautiful thing,

They learn,

To give and take their light between one another. 

Then, one day,

They fall into a rhythm together.

The Sun, so eager to stretch the days,

Slows,

The Moon,

Flying close to the warming beacon,

Speeds.

They fall into one another,

Basking in the shared glow,

Dancing in the glimmering, blinding, shimmering embrace

That eclipses all else.

As a theater dims before a show,

The Earth falls into a hushed shadow,

Only to watch the weaving movements of the Sun and Moon.

And what a glory it is,

To witness the dance of the Sun and Moon,

The way they hold each other close,

Seeming to stretch the moment of their embrace beyond all expectations.

And then,

It draws to a close.

Without much fanfare.

The Sun must continue its work,

The Moon must pass on through the day.

They part, and the lights return to Earth.

The display concludes.

As the Moon and Sun go their separate ways,

A promise lingers in the sky,

Of a tentative blush in the setting Sun,

And the rising Moon’s crescent smile.


End file.
